


Nothing Ever Comes Without a Consequence

by orphan_account



Series: Natural [2]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Brain Damage, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Gen, Good Parent Alfred Pennyworth, Intellectual Disability, Platonic Relationships, Possibly OOC, Protective Alfred Pennyworth, Sort Of, collapsed buildings, give him time, mental disability, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22202284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The events of 'Man of Steel' coincide with an altercation between Batman and the Joker.A serious injury leaves the Joker helpless, and who is Bruce to let an innocent man rot in Arkham?
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU) & Alfred Pennyworth, Joker (DCU) & Bruce Wayne
Series: Natural [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597216
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	Nothing Ever Comes Without a Consequence

**Author's Note:**

> A warning for severe injury, descriptions of blood and violence and mental disability.

Faster than Bruce could properly make out, a streak of black pitched into the side of the building; bringing with it huge chunks of concrete and debris. 

He dove to the side just quick enough to avoid being crushed, taking refuge beneath the somewhat protective doorway and grimacing at the gritty sensation of concrete in his lungs. 

A second figure of red and blue followed suit, but Batman didn't need to see the costume to know the creature responsible:  
Superman didn't spare a glance at them as he flung the second Kryptonian halfway across the city like a limp javelin pole, undoubtedly back into the vicinity of Metropolis.  
The very air generated by their movements felt like a physical blow, further destabilising the precinct and stirring up a storm of powdered plaster. 

Bruce had been in collapsing buildings before and so was -perhaps overly- familiar with how the building rumbled and rebalanced for what could be hours afterwards.  
This was different; the speed of it all was unsettling; one moment they were all leaping for cover as the kryptonians fought, and not ten seconds later everything was still and silent. 

The seedling of suspicion Bruce harboured for Superman grew absurdly rapidly into full-blown hatred;

Men and women of Gotham's police force were trapped beneath hulking slabs of brickwork and plaster, some groaning and writhing and some deathly still.  
There were dozens more alive, though, and a hot second of recovery was all they afforded before the demolished precinct erupted into chaos. 

Bruce was invisible as policemen scrambled to save their colleagues, circling him like rapids around a rock, digging with barely controlled mania through rubble to try and make space for their fallen to crawl out. 

How could anybody -a proclaimed *hero* no less- accept the worship of millions, just to turn around and squash them all like ants under a boot?  
Bile seeped its way up his throat, but he swallowed it down and heaved a large stone from the leg of an unconscious receptionist...he'd probably need it amputated. 

Batman turned at the hand on his shoulder to find Jim Gordon looking dusty and a little worse for wear, but alive. Definitely alive.  
They didn't speak, but they did share a grim look. 

A startled yelp spurred them to hurry around the maze of concrete slabs to where a group of men had their shoulders against a chunk of rock three times larger than any of them.  
One officer was pale, hands outstretched as though he'd intended to help the person that had been stuck underneath it.  
Only to discover that that figure was clad in purple. 

Had he forgotten? Or had he just hoped that the terrorist had been squished from existance like the slimy little beatle he was? 

Bruce and Jim stood side by side, the commissioner grasping cracked ribs and favouring his right leg. 

Nobody really knew what to do. 

Trapped between a second huge slab of ceiling and the wall, the Joker was thoroughly pinned. His right leg and entire right flank was crushed and any movement could disturb the debris and kill him outright.  
The men had been fortunate so far in that he had remained unconscious, but Bruce wasn't sure how much longer that would be the case.  
The Joker was unpredictable - he had very little instinct for self-preservation, if any at all. He could get himself killed (and injure others) with the wrong move. 

Nevertheless, true to form as Bruce silently prayed for the man to remain unconscious, gravel crunched under twitching limbs. 

Watching him wake was...well, it was anxiety inducing.  
Brown eyes -a deceptively soft shade of hickory- were slow to sharpen, and from where Bruce was crouched just feet away with his shoulder to the concrete slab, it was clear that the Joker's pupils were unevenly dilated.  
The fact that there was blood trickling from his ears and nose suggested something a little worse than a concussion. 

The Joker didn't react to Batman's proximity- in fact, he hardly seemed aware of it. It took Bruce leaning forwards and jostling the Joker's shoulder to draw his attention.  
Still, there was very little reaction. The younger man blinked and attempted to shift, apparently failing to register the half ton of concrete atop him. 

That, more than anything, was cause for concern. 

Ordinarily, Bruce wouldn't have cared whether he lived or died- he still wasn't sure he did.  
But he was here and had the capacity to save a life. Call it an impulsion. 

"Joker," he commanded, waving a gauntleted hand to draw focus. It worked for a solid five seconds before the Joker's eyes drifted.  
This was something other than a concussion and probably not something that could be healed.  
Carefully, Bruce pressed on his skull with both hands - his heart sunk when he felt a soft spot around three inches long on the right side, confirming his suspicions. 

Silently Bruce allowed the Joker's head to rest once again on the debris, unsurprised when the man slipped back into unconsciousness. 

The commissioner was waiting impatiently, having been on call with a firestation so thet they might free the several others that had been left trapped in Superman's wake. 

"What's the situation?" 

Jim's professionalism and compassion was what endeared him to many of Gotham's citizens, but his no-bullshit policy was law in the GCPD and even Batman had to uphold it. 

"He has a depressed skull fracture," Bruce replied, as apathetic as he could force his voice t3l sound.  
"I'm not able to treat it, not even first aid. It could kill him," 

The commissioner shook his head, otherwise unreactive. Bruce couldn't blame him; this wasn't really a situation one was trained to deal with.

"I just called the paramedics; they're sending a team of ambulances. Should be here any second," 

He didnt respond, the both of them still watching the young man trapped underneath the rubble.  
There was no manic energy or stares void of empathy. Just a man.  
When Jim spoke next, his voice was quiet. 

"Would you think less of me if I said I'm relieved?" 

Bruce thought about the twisted relief lying heavy in his own chest. 

"No."

**Author's Note:**

> I have a terrible track record of not finishing fanfictions, but this was in my head for weeks and I thought I might as well post it. 
> 
> Love it? Hate it? Want more context because I'm crap at summaries? Leave a comment!


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